


Give Me Your Filth

by gotatheory



Series: OQ Fix It Week [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, OQ Fix It Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:57:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotatheory/pseuds/gotatheory
Summary: Robin of Locksley tells the Queen about his dalliances with Nottingham. She is... intrigued.





	Give Me Your Filth

**Author's Note:**

> My final entry for OQ Fix It Week. I'm saying this will have a part two, but I might change my mind.

The Queen learns that perhaps one of the most delightful differences between Robin of Locksley and Robin Hood is that Locksley is… flexible. Sexually speaking. In all sorts of ways.

Robin Hood, for all that she had loved him and how he hadn’t judged her when she admitted to being attracted to both men and women, was as straight as the arrows he so skillfully wielded. It hadn't bothered Regina — it wasn’t as if it truly mattered, when she thought they were going to be together forever, happily and blissfully monogamous.

(The Queen appreciates monogamy, she does. And she expects it, wants to be the only one in Locksley’s heart even if they haven’t admitted as much out loud yet. But she knows very well that sex and love are not mutually exclusive, and she’s quite… voracious. Bless that both Robins shared at least one trait, and that was their ability to keep up with her appetite.)

So when Locksley admits to being bendier when it comes to sexual preference, when he casually shares that he liked to fuck the Sheriff of Nottingham before she came into his life, the Queen is more than a little aroused at the thought. Something Robin notices immediately, teasing her for the flush creeping up her neck, the way her breathing quickened, her parted lips.

“Well. The thought of you with another man is… arousing,” she admits freely, because openness is important. They’re both used to hiding themselves, keeping walls up, but they’ve tried to fight their nature, tried to be more honest and not keep secrets. Not to mention hiding their sexual desires from one another was really only denying themselves potential pleasure.

“I see,” Robin smirks at her, biting his lip, and the bastard _knows_ what that does to her. “How arousing?”

Fine, if he wants to play, she’ll play.

“Tell me what you do to each other,” she murmurs, voice going low and sultry. He looks almost surprised, his eyebrows raising, but then he’s telling her everything. How it started, how he kissed Nottingham when the Sheriff had caught him, and how that turned into an erotic game of cat and mouse.

It lights her up, stokes the desire in her belly until she’s straddling him, smoke swirling around their bodies until they’re deposited in their bed, their clothes left behind. Robin takes it in stride, continues to speak of their escapades as Regina grinds against him, until she’s sinking on his cock, his voice breaking as he’s enveloped in her warmth.

Later, when they’re both sweaty and sated, he murmurs, “Would you be interested in a proposition I have for you?”

She’s not quite ready to speak, still breathless from the intense orgasm she’s just experienced, so all she manages is a barely there, “Hmm?”

“If you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind… having a run in with Nottingham together,” Robin says in a leading tone, and it takes a second for her pleasure-addled mind to catch onto his meaning.

It wakes her up enough that she moves off his chest, rising up on her elbow to look at him better. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” she asks, and he flusters adorably.

“I mean, if you don’t want to, then we don’t have to… And I don’t want you to think you’re not enough for me. I don’t need to fuck anyone else—”

“Robin,” she interrupts, and she doesn’t mean to laugh at him, but she’s never seen him so off-kilter. “If you want to have a threesome with Nottingham…” She trails off, leans in close enough that their lips are almost touching, “I am definitely up for it.”

Robin groans, barely gets out a breathy, “Gods, you’re magnificent,” before she’s kissing him senseless.

It doesn’t take much to set up an “accidental” meeting with Nottingham. They spread a couple of rumors about Robin of Locksley being in the area, a few sightings of him at one of the taverns, and soon enough the Sheriff is on the lookout. The plan was a simple one, a tried and true method for Robin to get the Sheriff to bend for him: get captured and taken to a cell, and wasn’t it just funny how Robin’s cell was always so private, and the Sheriff was the _only_ one who could watch him?

The only difference this time is that Regina is watching as the Sheriff apprehends her partner, waiting until the right moment to teleport in and join their fun.

She sits at her vanity, keeping a close eye on Robin as he sits at the tavern, having a drink while he waits for Nottingham. She wanted to be there, had almost insisted on going along, but Robin had vetoed that idea quickly. Even in disguise, he didn’t want to risk her being recognized. She can grudgingly admit he might be right; she’s still being hunted for the murder of this land’s Snow and Charming. (Something that she would be more amused by — her supposedly good half killed more people than she did — had it not meant her own son wanted her dead.)

Nottingham’s arrival distracts her from her maudlin thoughts, turns her mind to something much more pleasant than Henry’s desire to see her head on a spike. Everything goes off without a hitch, the Sheriff apprehending Robin without much fuss or fanfare. Regina watches as they leave, and she itches to go to him. He’s helpless right now, handcuffed and tossed in the back of Nottingham’s wagon, and until they get to the jail, she’s blind.

Regina flips an hourglass on her vanity table, a way to measure the time while Robin is transported to his final destination. She watches the grains of sand slipping through one glass bulb to the other, occasionally glancing at her mirror. Smoke clouds the glassy surface, her magic trying to find a glimpse of the wagon, only to fade back to her own reflection when it can’t find him. It’s times like this that she misses her Mirror, when her power alone is not enough to find what she wants.

The last grain of sand falls, and Regina turns her eyes to the mirror once more, and when the fog of her magic clears, Robin is sitting in a cell, hands uncuffed. He’s alone, looking almost bored as he sits on a cot, his back to the wall, his thumbs twiddling in his lap. Relief fills her to see him unharmed (and sometimes, it scares her how much she cares for this man after so little time).

She watches him alone in that cell for maybe five minutes before the door opens, the Sheriff of Nottingham striding in. “Well, well. We meet again, Locksley,” he drawls, his voice huskier than Regina remembers it sounding. She wonders if she’s just imagining it, but she thinks by the way Nottingham’s eyes drag down Robin’s form, perhaps not.

It’s funny, because she’s met with this man several times — she can still remember her mother introducing them, remembers the fake tattoo on his arm, a mockery of the one Robin bears on his own wrist. And then of course in Storybrooke they had occasionally crossed paths in that small town. Never once has she held an ounce of attraction to him, not even when she thought he was her soulmate, and to be perfectly honest, she still doesn’t. But the way he’s looking at Robin, and how Robin’s eyes are already darkening with lust, has a tingle of desire climbing up her spine.

“Yes, so we have,” Robin replies casually, in that teasing, level tone that he has. She wonders if Nottingham finds it as sexy as she does; judging by the way his lips part, his tongue just peeking out to wet them, he does.

“I’m surprised to see you back in Sherwood Forest,” he remarks, adding, “I heard you were keeping different company these days,” in a voice that was trying too hard to be nonchalant. Dare she say it, but Nottingham almost sounded jealous.

“Oh?”

“You’ve been spotted with the Evil Queen running from King Henry’s knights often lately,” he says, and yes, she’s sure now that she can hear jealousy in his tone. He’s almost petulant.

Robin hears it, she knows he must, because he pushes up from the cot, rising to his feet as he smirks at Nottingham. “Is that so?” he says, amused, taking a few steps nearer to Nottingham.

She doesn’t know how he does it, how he imbues every casual movement with sensuality, but he does. He has a grace to him, and Robin — the other Robin — did too, but there’s something different about Locksley’s grace. It’s more… insidious, more pointed, more like her own mannerisms. She loves it, licks her lips as she watches him move, and it seems it has a similar effect on the Sheriff judging by the way his eyes are glued to his every step.

“Yes,” Nottingham grouses, before he’s drawing himself up, trying to regain control of a situation he must realize he’s rapidly losing control of. “You know what traveling with her means for you, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for Robin’s answer, “It means you’re not just a thief, you’re colluding with a traitor to the crown. King Henry doesn’t take kindly to traitors…”

“I see,” Robin hums, entirely nonplussed by Nottingham’s implications, and he flicks his eyes up and down Nottingham’s body. “And what about you, Sheriff? How do you take to traitors?”

He gasps, offended or turned on, Regina isn’t sure. But Robin’s not finished, adding with a heated smirk, “I already know how you take to thieves…”

He’s close enough to reach out and touch Nottingham now, and touch him he does, drawing him into a fervent, biting kiss. The sheriff responds immediately, melting into the kiss, and a thrill shoots through Regina as she watches him surrender entirely to Robin. It’s very attractive, seeing Nottingham turn to putty in Robin’s hands, letting him dominate the kiss.

For a moment, she simply watches them, enjoying the way Robin begins to strip him of his clothes. It’s just as he’s peeling off Nottingham’s tunic that she decides to make her entrance, waving her hand and appearing in a cloud of purple smoke in a corner of the cell.

“He _llo_ boys,” she says with a grin, letting her eyes rake over Nottingham’s shirtless form. “I thought I might help you out,” she adds, ostensibly speaking to Robin, but he simply smirks at her double entendre.

“Thank you, my love,” he replies, looking back at Nottingham. “Would you like to finish undressing him, or would you rather watch me undress him?”

Regina makes a show of considering his offer, tapping a finger against her chin. Nottingham, for his part, is staring at them both, torn between arousal and confusion… And maybe a bit of fear, something that makes her smile deviously. “I think… you are wearing too many clothes, my dear,” she says to Robin, licking her lips as she continues, “I want to see him undress you.”

“You minx,” Robin teases, before facing the sheriff once more. “You heard Her Majesty. Why don’t you come over here and undress me? Surely you’re not going shy on me.” He smirks at him, biting his lip, and Nottingham’s lips part in a desirous gasp. It doesn’t take any more prompting than that to have him stepping in close to Robin, his hands reaching up to tug his tunic over his head.

It’s as Nottingham is working the fastening of Robin’s trousers open that Robin pulls him into another heated kiss, letting him ruck his pants down as he toes off his boots. But it’s then that Regina looks at the spindly little cot in the cell, and thinks perhaps they could use a change of venue. So she interrupts them by clearing her throat, reminding them that she’s there, and when they both glance at her, she smirks, “How about we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

Robin grins wolfishly at her, eyeing Nottingham almost like a cat with a mouse. “Oh yes,” he murmurs, and doesn’t look away from the sheriff even as purple smoke surrounds them all.


End file.
